The Days of Last
by Ric Madness
Summary: Dib returns from the wrestling pay per view only to head to a game convention in a week! And who's this snoopying around the Membrane residents? Can it be Zim? Meanwhile, back on the Tallest flagship, it's Nik's turn to measure Red and Purple! Wow!
1. The Inevitable

Before we begin, I wish to acknowledge a few things. First off, I'm Richard Reynolds aka Ric Madness. How I was labeled with the alias was through e-mails and AIM messages I exchanged with two online friends. I met with them in Feburary, 2002 after I joyously read some of their work here on FF.Net. At first, the encounter was merely meant to show appreciation for their writing talent. However, over time, I found myself attached to these two lovely ladies. Becoming friends, I recently took part in some humorous roleplays and sent songfics on my behalf. Now, it would seem, I've been dragged into publishing some of my writing as well. No longer am I just reading fanfics, all thanks to Peacemaker Aqua and Zimlover05. I highly recommend reading their masterpieces. Once again, I thank them for getting me involved here in this cyber community. They mean a lot to me.  
  
For the disclaimer, I say this: I do not, nor claim to own the Invader Zim franchise or other respected copyrighted material there in. Invader Zim and all other characters pertaining to the animated series are properties of Jhonen Vasquez. Other properties not of the author's belong to their proper owners. No other fanfic characters belonging to a member of FF.Net nor any one else's are included in this entry unless permission has been granted, and will be stated in the heading of the chapter(s) used. The exact pretains to any person(s) who allow me to handle them in this fanfic. If problems arrive from any "TDoL" content, please contact me to discuss it. I'll do my best to help correct the situation.  
  
Chapter One:  
The Inevitable  
  
At Conventai, the convention hall planet, countless Irkens park their ships at the docking range and teleport to the planet's surface. There, the gift shops and food stands are raided. With a clock counting down on the monitor screens, an Irken announcer goes on air.  
  
"Attention Irken soldiers! Today is the big day of the Inevitable Victory celebration! Please hurry and buy all you can carry from the gift shops, and proceed to the main convention hall! You now have ten minutes before the party begins!"  
  
Irkens from all around assemble at the main convention hall doors. Passing x-ray inspection, they crowd inside. Awaiting the Almighty Tallest, many chat and gossip about the triumphant planetary invasions.  
  
However, in the midst of all the celebration, one lonely trainee stands unmoved by the Armada's success. This feminine indigo-eyed Irken named Nik despises the whole idea of universal domination. Nevertheless, she cheers on with false words and a fake smile in fear of the truth being known.  
  
Still yet, she can't help but think. "Selfish, power-hungry morons! They're so full of themselves! Only total conquest of the universe will satisfy their hunger for dominance! For most races, one planet or even a continent would do! Yet, my stupid race feels they need more, and I'm powerless to say otherwise! Why was I cloned to be a Irk!?! My only hope is for it to rain during this little parade or something! Too bad there's no clouds!"  
  
Onward she continues with her falsehood as others rock the dome, drink slurpies, eat junk food and try to find a place to set their cheap useless gift shop stuff. Above all the screaming spectators, the counter clicks down to zero on the monitors. The Irken announcer then steps back on screen.  
  
"The time has come! Wiggle your antennas in salute because here they are! Your all-knowing, all-powerful leaders - the Almighty Tallest!"  
  
Two globes rise from the floor and flash lasers every which way. Smoke shoots out from the stage's edge followed by a platform lowering down from the ceiling. The crowd cheers as they catch sight of the Almighty Tallest. On the way down, Red and Purple wave while they converse.  
  
"I sure hope Zim hasn't caught wind of this," Purple commented. "How would we deal with it?"  
  
Red assured Purple. "Don't worry. Zim's so busy trying to take over Earth, he hadn't the time to pick up the frequency. So, just chill."  
  
Purple wipes away the sweat on his forehead. "Yeah, I guess you're right. He's been at it for ... how many months now?"  
  
"Its been quite a while," Red answered. "The Armada's just ended, so it's around the year and a half mark."  
  
Purple chuckles. "By this rate, we'll be dead and gone before Zim conquers that ball of dirt."  
  
"All the better for us," Red remarked. "We're about to set. Get ready."  
  
The platform sets center stage and the floor clears of smoke. Revealed is Operation Impending Doom Two's proud Invaders lined around the stage. Two rods then extend down and a holographic layout of conquered territory fades in. The Almighty Tallest follow up the flashy display with a victory speech for the Inevitable Victory celebration.  
  
Red starts things off. "Welcome mighty Irken soldiers! Once again, the Irken Empire has shown its superiority over the universe by sieging yet another galaxy! For expanding Irken rule, we the Tallest, are here to recognize those brave souls involved in the most crucial roles of Operation Impending Doom Two!"  
  
Out in the respectfully clapping crowd, Nik sighs. "Oh, GREAT!!! Now, they're handing out awards for this! How egotistical can they get!?! What's next!?! Vacation pay!?!" She slightly shakes her head.  
  
"... They're the ones behind us," Purple added. "Anyhow, these less superior then us, but still quite superior soldiers will each be awarded an OID2 Campaign Victory Medal with a thirty day paid vacation!"  
  
Nik stares out blankly. "I knew that was coming!"  
  
A panel slides open in the floor and a small box full of medals floats up.  
  
"Those of you in the audience will immediately return back to training after the party," Red spoke in a mellow tone voice.  
  
Nik's jaw drops. "Okay! I should've expected this!" She, along with a few others, look on in dismay.  
  
"You should have tried harder," Purple told them, quoting himself from the Great Assigning.  
  
Red then announced, "And so you shall with double the training effort!"  
  
"And double the time," Purple slapped on, in spite of Red.  
  
"FUCK!!!" Nik accidentally yells out.  
  
Everyone backs away from Nik, putting her in the spotlight. Red grabs the medals out of the little chrome box, holding them in both hands. Purple closes the lid and looks down at it before throwing it at her. Hitting her on the head, leaving a knot.  
  
"Ow .. Thank you ...," Nik muttered.  
  
The holographic screen suddenly twitches. Then it twitches again. The territory layout begins to blur. It's not long till Zim's face is visible through the static. The Tallest are shocked with this interrupting transmission as the frequency clears.  
  
Nik, however, looked on in amusement as she rubs her head. "This should be interesting," she thought to herself.  
  
"Invader Zim reporting in, sirs! The mission ...," Zim hesitates. Noticing the large crowd of Irkens in the background, Zim questions, "Aaaa, what is all those people doing there?"  
  
Red and Purple grow nervous as they try thinking up a excuse. "We are ... having a 'Half-Time' party," Red replies.  
  
"What," mumbles Zim.  
  
"Yeah! Yeah! We're having a 'Half-Time' ceremony! It's .. for the completion of the first half completed Invasions," Purple tampered off.  
  
Red covers his face with his hand. "We're busted, man," he whispered.  
  
"Here it comes," anxiously Nik awaited.  
  
Zim stared down at the Tallest for a moment, then looked around. "Well ...," Zim thinks for a minute. "I guess .. I better get back to work! I don't want to keep everybody waiting! It won't be long before we'll be having the Inevitable Victory celebration," Zim rubs the back of his neck nervously. "Trust me! The mission goes well! Not long will it be before I have Earth under Irken control! Invader Zim signing off!  
  
"What!" Nik slapped her head. "Ow!"  
  
GIR comes flying out from the back. He runs into Zim, smashing both of them into the screen. While Zim sincerely looked in pain, GIR simply quoted something heard off television. "My, you certainly have grown since last time!" The transmission is cut and the holographic layout is returned.  
  
"We must have grown a bit overnight," Purple thought out loud.  
  
Raising his brow, Red throw on a big grin. "No! No! No! No! I think he was referring to JUST me," Red insisted.  
  
"How can that be!?! You and me are the same height!" Purple takes his hand and compares their height.  
  
Red slaps Purple's hand away from his head. "Admit it! You're in denial! I'm now the 'One Only Tallest'!"  
  
"Yeah, right," Purple said sarcastically as he rubs his hand.  
  
"So, you admit it," Red bursted out, pointing at him.  
  
"I meant it sarcastically," Purple corrected him. "Look ... Zim's SIR unit is nothing more than scrap metal and junk. Who are you gonna believe: me or it?"  
  
Red ponders for a moment. "I believe it," he told his peer.  
  
"Fine! We'll get our heights measured with a regulated height checker, and you'll see that I'm right," Purple edged on.  
  
"No way! You'll rig the machines! I order for every Irken to do the job with a tap measure," Red proclaimed.  
  
"Except Zim, right," Purple asked.  
  
"Except Zim," Red agreed.  
  
Zooming into the stunned audience, we see Nik twitching a little smirk. "This is perfect," she thinks. "Here's my chance to really do some damage! Divide and conquer, babe! Divide and conquer! Haha! The Inevitable Victory celebration turned out to be great, after all!" Nik then pops a curly fry in her mouth.  
  
"Oh," Red spoke up. "Invader Nik! Report to sanitation duty on board the Armada flagship! There'll be a mess made for you to clean!"  
  
Purple butted in. "Hey! I run this gig, too! You'll play as maid! Sanitation, food, drink and anything we can think of!"  
  
"Yo, Purple," Red said.  
  
Turning around, Purple gets slugged. The scene fades out with Red and Purple duking it out with everyone not knowing what to do. Nik, with head hung down, walks off to report to her assigned duties.  
  
Meanwhile, down on Earth, Zim prepares for skool. Just fixing and adjusting a few minor parts, Zim then equips the spider pack on his back. Taking the toilet entry up stairs, he runs into GIR who's making a peanut and jelly sandwich. The contents are slopped all over the kitchen floor and spread all over GIR. A piece of bread bounces off Zim's head.  
  
"GIR! Come to attention," Zim ordered the SIR unit.  
  
GIR salutes with eyes red. "Yes, my master!"  
  
"It's time for skool. That means you're to guard the house. There's no leaving, ordering pizza, nor inviting anyone over. GOT IT!?!" Zim straightens his wig.  
  
"Sir," GIR responses.  
  
Skipping pass the gooey mess, Zim makes his way to the front door. "Oh, and while you're at it, clean up this disgusting display of .. FILTH!!!"  
  
GIR answers with "Yes, sir! Right away!"  
  
Zim gives GIR the 'lazy eye' look and steps out the door. With the door shut, GIR gets all goofy again and rolls around in the peanut butter and jelly.  
  
"Hehehehe!"  
  
Zim peacefully walks through the skool gates. Arriving several minutes early, he scans around, noticing a over flown garbage can swarming with flies. Investigating closely, Zim finds it stinks horribly.  
  
"Ow! What a stench! Must be some sort of weapon they post around the premises to ward off unwanted beast creatures!" He places his hand on his chin. "If intensified, this technology could be useful with keeping Dib away from the base."  
  
Pulling out a tiny device with spinning things on top, Zim tries examining the substance. Waving the device over the can several times, the trash begins to move. Zim raises his brow, curious over the reaction. He lowers his head for a better look. Suddenly, the Madness dog sticks its head out.  
  
"Madness! MADNESS!!!"  
  
Dropping his device, Zim backs up further and further until bumping into Dib. Glancing back, Zim then stands straight and acts like he's dusting himself off.  
  
"Mmhmm"  
  
"What's wrong, Zim!?! Never seen a trash can before," Dib teased with a grin.  
  
Narrowing his eyes, Zim stuck up what would be his nose. "Oh, yes, yes. You stink beast surprise me with your inferior ways of disposing ... stuff. It answers my question: why this planet has only now discover nuclear power. The human race is so, well, pitiful."  
  
"Is that so," Dib asked.  
  
Zim simply replied, "Yes."  
  
"Well, then," Dib paused. "Why hadn't you successed? It appears your mission isn't going as planned."  
  
"Of course, it is," Zim persisted. "I'm just toying with you stink beast!"  
  
"Toying, huh?" Dib crosses his arms. "How about playing a 'friendly' game of tag while we wait? Class starts in about ten minutes."  
  
Zim realizes this is another one of Dib's tricks to expose him, and quickly refuses. "No, thanks. I have important matters to attend to." Zim turns and walks away.  
  
"Oh, you do! You have ME!!!" Dib launches out at Zim.  
  
With his Irken military training, Zim easily averts the attack, putting Dib face first on the concrete.  
  
"Mwehahahahaha," Zim laughed. "Hahahahahahaha! Fool! Do you know better than try attacking an Irken soldier!?! I laugh at your sorry attempt! Hahaha!"  
  
While Zim is being self-absorbed, Dib picks himself off the ground, wiping some blood off his face. He swiftly gets up and tackles Zim. Literally slapping Dib off top of him, Zim reaches for the trash can.  
  
"You want to play games, earth monkey," Zim hollows. "Then, lets play dirty!"  
  
Zim grabs the can, but the Madness dog is still digging in it. Spooked, Zim drops the garbage and jumps back. Dib shoves him from behind. Zim comes back with a shove of his own, sending him into Mister Elliot. He knocked both of them down. Feeling of his head, Elliot peeks down at the bloody faced Dib in his lap. He lets out a short squeal. Zim stands there stupefied as Mister Elliot helps Dib and himself up.  
  
"Zim! How could you do this to poor Dib, " Mister Elliot cried. "I'm taking you straight to the principal's office right now!" He then looks down at Dib. "And I'm taking you to the nurse."  
  
Taking Zim by the wrist, Elliot escorts him and Dib into the skool building. Several minutes later, the first bell rings. All the kids leave the playground and gather in the class rooms. On his way from the skool nurse, Dib struggles down the hallway with bandages over his face. With his head engulf in wrappings, the best Dib can do is to feel his way to Miss Bitter's class. On the way there, he accidentally bumps into every ongoer.  
  
"This is just silly! How do they expect me to make to class in time? This'll be another tardy slip. Man, I could've really used those extra minutes spying on that vampire gerbil. Only if Zim didn't bury my head in the damn ground, I might've got a snapshot! Too late to worry about now, I guess. Right now, I need to find my way around."  
  
Dib draws closer to Miss Bitter's, but so does Zim. Marching up the hall, he notices Dib staggering about like a drunken mule. Seeing that he's momentarily visually impaired, Zim schemes of a way to repay Dib for the visit to the principal. Racing beside the door, Zim waits on Dib. As Dib finally gets in the doorway, Zim sneaks in front of him, and pretends to be pushed. Twirling around, Zim purposely falls, knocking over the waste basket.  
  
"Oh, Miss Bitters! This twit shoved me as I was coming into your 'GLORIOUS' class room! I believe he was doing it for kicks," Zim preformed with the back of his hand on his forehead. "... Oh, my! Dib! It was you," Zim fakely proclaimed.  
  
Zim glance up. Miss Bitters sits sound asleep. He gives off a blank stare. Along comes Dib, tripping over his own two feet onto Zim. Miss Bitters snaps out of it, and hovers over to them.  
  
"Dib! Report to the principal's office! Your tardy for the twelfth time this week!"  
  
Dib untangles the bangles from his head. "But Miss Bitters -"  
  
Bitters cuts him off. "Now, Dib!"  
  
Zim tugs on her clothes to get her attention. "What about me, Miss Bitters? He purposely pushed me through the door, hurting my little head. I think he needs to be punished - very badly."  
  
Miss Bitters bends over Zim and sniffs. "Yeah, and that, too," she added before sitting back down.  
  
"But Miss Bitters! I had this things around my head and -"  
  
She cuts him off again. "You shouldn't have been wearing that stupid thing over your face! Don't you know you can't see with something over your eyes!"  
  
Dib tries reasoning with her. "Miss Bitters! I -"  
  
"Silence! While you're at it, you need to check with the skool nurse. You got some nasty scratches." Miss Bitters opens a desk drawer and pulls out a dusty old skool yearbook. "Zim! Get up and pass this around! You all will be quizzed on the skool's 1982 class offices. I'm giving you two minutes to study."  
  
Tossing the bandages in the turned over waste basket, Dib steps out. Gripping the yearbook in both hands, Zim laughs uncontrollable while folding it.  
  
"Yes! Yes! Victory is mine! All mine, I tell you! Mine," Zim celebrated in triumph. "Mwehahahahahaha!"  
  
The class is stun with the display.  
  
The scenes fades out into the cafeteria. It's lunch time. As usual, Dib sets beside Gaz at a table, while Zim lurks closer to the outcast section. Finishing off the last speck of food on his tray, Dib slides it to the side and watches Zim. Gaz automatically sends it hurtling towards the back. A scream is heard. Anyhow, Zim pokes at his food, unaware of his surroundings.  
  
Without warning, Zim's back is splattered with ketchup and rice. Twisting around in his seat, he directs his full attention on Dib. Apparently pissed, Zim immediately slings a glob at him. With his aiming off, he splats Gaz instead. Enraged, she stores away her Game Slave 2 in her pocket, and sends Dib over the table. Dib's landing on top of Zim signals the start of a all-out food fight. Ketchup and rice flies everywhere.  
  
The battle is short-lived due to the presents of the principal. Stomping in, shakes the floor. When asked whom started the mayhem, everybody points with a mixed response. However, the two selected was Dib and Zim. Picking them up by their shirt collars, he leads them to his office. As the thunderous sound of his footing vanishes, the kids relax and resume their regular business.  
  
On the bench in front of the office, Dib and Zim are forced to wait silently. The principal tries contacting their parents with little to no success. While calling Zim's house, all he gets is a quick 'hello' and 'goodbye' before being hung up. Wonder who? With Professor Membrane, on the other hand, he's directed through a number of operators and security clearance.  
  
Out on the bench, both is cautious; alert of one another's actions; studying.  
  
"Come on, Zim! I'm ready and waiting! Just one wrong move and I'll get ya," Dib swears to himself.  
  
"Oh, you think I won't be ready, but you're wrong! I'll bitch slap you to Hell, little earth monkey! Just give me reason for justifiable homicide! Oh, yes," Zim thinks.  
  
The tension grows. 'Cutting it with a knife' would be a understatement here. They stare deep, eye to eye. Almost pressing nose to nose. Then the principal steps out. The door's slam sets off the two into a frenzy. Clawing faces, pulling hair and biting, they rage on. The principal calls out to the other faculty to restore order. Dog piling, they quickly regain control.  
  
"Alright, you two! I called your parents. It took awhile, Dib, but I finally got a hold of your dad. Professor Membrane is busy, so he's sending over personnel to take you home. He wants you to go directly to your room when you get home."  
  
The principal turns to Zim. "Despite your messed up answering machine, I believe I got through. I'm assured that your parents will be as soon as possible, Zim. For the meantime, you'll wait here."  
  
Giving off a sigh, the man continues on. "Due to all the trouble here lately, I'm suspending the both of you for one week. I would lecture you over the things that took place today, but ... it doesn't matter! You all are hopeless! I just can't wait for this day to end!"  
  
He begins to cry. His secretary pats him on the back in an attempt to comfort him. He runs back into his office followed by the lady.  
  
Suddenly, the sound of sirens can be heard. They stop, and we see someone walking up the hall. It's the guard that zapped Dib before when he tried getting a permission slip signed. He halts, facing Dib.  
  
"Okay, kid! It's time to go home!" The guard zaps him with a tazer.  
  
"OW! I'm coming!"  
  
Walking him down the hallway, he zaps Dib some more.  
  
"OW! Will you stop that!?!"  
  
*Zap*  
  
"OW! God dammit!"  
  
*Zap*  
  
"OW!"  
  
Focusing back on Zim, a microphone pops out of his spider pack. "GIR! Come in, GIR," Zim mumbles.  
  
"HI," GIR answers.  
  
"GIR! I need you to pose as my uncle or relative of some kind. I don't trust the parent decoys on this mission. Get a disguise and meet me at the skool. I can't leave till you show." Zim scans around, making sure no one's listening.  
  
"Sure thing. I just gotta drop piggy back home first."  
  
"Piggy," Zim questions.  
  
A great deal of time have passed the regular skool hours. It's dark outside and everybody's went home. Everybody, except Zim and the principal. Zim sits and hums while swinging his legs, feet scraping the floor. In his office, the principal has his head laid sideways on top of his desk, slobbering. A cockroach crawling up the side of his face wakes and startles him. Stretching out, he spots the clock on his wall. He reads off "8:45 pm."  
  
"Maybe I should try calling again," he considers.  
  
Dialing the number, he's greeted with ringing. After about a minute of this, he hangs up. Pushing his chair out, he gets up and steps out. In the hallway, he sits beside of Zim on the bench. Looking all pitiful, the man places his hand on Zim's shoulder.  
  
"Tell me where you live, and I'll drop you off," he offered. "It's getting late."  
  
"There will be no need because here he comes ... my uncle .. now." Zim points down the hall. It's GIR dressed in a ten-gallon hat, a big fake mustache, a pin strip suit and cowboy boots. He struts up the hall as if he's bold legged. Walking up to the principal, GIR shakes his hand.  
  
"How do you do, strangle," GIR shouts.  
  
The principal slaps on a big smile. "Thank God! Someone finally has come!"  
  
"It's no problem, mister! I had to do this many a times!"  
  
"So, this is a constant problem with the boy," the principal questioned.  
  
"Oh, sure! I remember back in the good ol' days, I use ta -"  
  
Zim covers GIR's mouth.  
  
"Well, this talk was VERY informative and all, but I believe we need to be getting home now." Zim drags GIR down the hall by his belt. "Buh-bye."  
  
"See ya in about a week, sonny," GIR calls out to the principal before they leave.  
  
"In about a week!?!" The principal pulls out a bottle of pills as we leave this scene.  
  
Back at the base, GIR takes off his costume and props himself in front of the tv. Zim flops on the coach, with a arm hanging off to the side.  
  
"GIR .. What took so long," Zim muttered.  
  
"The Scary Monkey show was on," GIR replied while surfing through the channels.  
  
"That MONKEY!!!"  
  
GIR changes it on a pro wrestling show. The program catches Zim's attention with the mentioning of the world title. Seating up, Zim watches the promo in extreme detail. Then he decides.  
  
"GIR! I have a plan. To rule this forsaken planet, I must become .. WORLD CHAMPION!!!"  
  
GIR shouts, "We're gonna be on tv!" 


	2. Wrestle Mania

Chapter Two:  
Wrestle Mania  
  
On the Armada flagship, a exhausted Irken doing long hours strives on. Just recently assigned to sanitation duty, Nik carries a mob, bucket with cleaning solution, et cetera down a hallway.  
  
On her way to the first of many rooms to make spotless, she speculates. "Damn the Tallest for this damn burden! What seems to be an eternity, I've been fetching stuff only to take it back and cleaning messes made all with intent! I'm also forced to play a fool to personally entertain the bastards! All the while, everyone's free to and expected by the Tallest to insult and trouble me in any manner when greeted! Red and Purple will pay for this embarrassment!"  
  
Stopping at the door of an office at the hall's end, she sighs. "But not today. I'm too tire! I barely dragged myself down here! My legs numb! Fingers blistered! Body cramping! Migraines! All over a simple momentary outburst!"  
  
Twisting the knob, Nik staggers on in. Food's splattered on the walls, furniture turned over, spilled drinks soaking the carpet and a busted light bulb. Dreading it, she starts with replacing the lights. Setting up a ladder, Nik pulls out a bulb from her supplies.  
  
"Oh, man! When will all of this end!?! Red tells me a week! Purple says two! The on board crew rumors till the end of the next Operation Impending Doom! Who knows!?! This just maybe my permanent job," she ponders as she stares sadly at the light bulb.  
  
Getting upon the ladder, Nik unscrews the broken light - head filled with thoughts. "There has to be away out! I could make a run for it ... No! I would either be caught before reaching a voot runner or shot down by the flagship's heavy arsenal or nearby ships! Perhaps I can get someone on the take .. That wouldn't work neither! I have nothing to offer but a few credits and a load of gift shop stuff! What Irken doesn't own that!?!  
  
With a little light to see by, she slowly starts to climb down. "Only if escaping was as easy as screwing in a light bulb," Nik mutters.  
  
Slipping on the ladder, Nik flies off, knocked against a wall monitor. Leaning on her side, she rubs her head. A knot appears beside the one given by Purple at the Inevitable Victory ceremony.  
  
"Great! Another one to add to the collection!"  
  
The monitor screen begins to flicker. Nik picks herself up and examines the cracked screen. Tapping it, sparks shoot out. She sighs once more and lowers her head in dismay, shaking it ever so slightly.  
  
"Now, I have to do technical repairs, too," Nik complained.  
  
A few more sparks fizz before a reception comes through. At first, it's too fuzzy to make out. Turning a knob on the side, Nik clears up the picture. It seems to be a Earth program, the planet Zim was sent to.  
  
"Hmmm .. The W-W-F. I wonder what it stands for," she ponders as she watches on.  
  
Zooming in on the monitor screen, the scene changes from the Armada flagship to an arena on Earth. Plainly, the banners, ring apron and ramp setup shows that it's WWF Jakked. Returning from a commercial break, we get a overhead shoot of the packed crowd before going into a promo backstage. The WWF Hardcore champion, Raven, struts up a hallway and is met by Michael Cole.  
  
Cole asks Raven for a quick interview before the evening's next match. Flopping the shattered and taped title belt over his shoulder, Raven gives the okay with a nod.  
  
"Raven, tomorrow on Sunday Night Heat, you'll be defending the WWF Hardcore title in the main event against Crash Holly. As we all know, Crash is a fourteen time former Hardcore champion. Is that, at least, a bit intimidating?" Michael Cole holds out the microphone for Raven.  
  
"That's a stupid question! I'm a greatly achieved Hardcore champion, myself! Thirteen times I won this belt! Not only that, but I put down that little SHIT twice before for the strap," Raven shouts on and on.  
  
Meanwhile, in a air vent above, Zim briefs GIR on his mission. "Alright, GIR! Pay close attention! Your role is simple. Wearing this shirt and having this license, you can ref any hardcore bout. Do I make myself clear," Zim whispers.  
  
Pulling the referee shirt over his head, GIR fits into it. "I dooooooo ..."  
  
"Good! When I attack this ugly bird-man and pin his shoulders, you count to what," Zim questions his SIR.  
  
"Ten," GIR replies with his tongue hanging out.  
  
"No," Zim scolds him. "Three, GIR! Three! You slap your hand against the floor three times. Then you proclaim me as the winner and hand me the junky leather strap. Got it!?!"  
  
"Yes! Oh, wait!" Gir pauses. "Yeah," he answer while straightening his collar.  
  
"Fine. In a moment get ready to jump." Zim readies himself.  
  
Below, Raven finishes off his speech. "And that's that! As long as I feel like being WWF's Hardcore champion, this belt's not leaving my waist!"  
  
"... But it's on your shoulder," Cole corrects Raven.  
  
The champion narrows his eyes as he stares down the interviewer. Feeling something small drop on his head, Raven looks up. Three screws bounce off his face then Zim crashes down on the vent. Knocking out Raven cold, Zim hooks one of Raven's legs.  
  
"GIR! Hurry," Zim yelled out, glancing up.  
  
GIR rolls out and lands on top of the two. Zim slings him off, throwing him against the wall.  
  
Letting go of the leg, Zim turns his head. "Now, get over here and count this!"  
  
Raven grabs the vent off his face and tosses it to the side. Dazed, he lifts his head only to have Zim punch his indented mug.  
  
"Hurry, GIR," Zim pleaded as he laid across Raven.  
  
GIR hops up and slides over to the two. Raising his hand, he calls out as he counts, "ONE .. TWO ... THREE!"  
  
Zim raises both fists in the air, laughing on his knees. GIR gets up and does a happy little dance, pointing at him.  
  
"Yea! Yea! Yea! Oh, yea!"  
  
Getting on his feet, Zim grabs the trashy title belt. Raven tries lifting back up again, but gets kicked in the face. Holding hands, GIR and Zim dances around and around, celebrating the victory. Michael Cole stands with a deadpan look. Then, Zim snatches the mic away from him.  
  
Zim stands tall, dragging the belt on the floor. "PITIFUL HUMANS! I've captured your precious trash title! Get down on your knees and worship your new lord and master! The WORLD is mine!"  
  
Cole bends over. "Excuse me. You just won the Hardcore title. It's not the Undisputed World championship. Triple-H holds that title."  
  
Yet again, Michael gets a unfriendly stare. Suddenly, Raven comes up from behind and rolls him into a School Boy Pin.  
  
Unsuspectingly, GIR goes for the count. "ONE .. TWO .. THREE! Here's your winner, ladies and gentlemen!"  
  
Gripping a leg, Raven puts Zim into a spin, smashing him into the wall. Being handed the belt by GIR, Raven hightails it out of there.  
  
The camera focuses on Zim who's flat against the floor. Pointing his finger in the direction Raven left, Zim makes an oath. "I swear that that championship will be mine! You will not hold it for long, bird-man! Just you wait and see!"  
  
Michael Cole interrupts him. "Pardon me, but I didn't catch your name. We need it for the title history. No fan has ever won the Hardcore title before."  
  
GIR steps in. "His name's Zim. Where's the poopcorn!?!  
  
Blankly, Cole stares into the camera. The scene pauses and zooms out, revealed to be a television screen in Vince McMahon's office.  
  
"You see that," Raven lashed out. "Somehow a midget got pass security, crawled through the air vents and jumped my ASS! I'm lucky I regained the freakin' title .. from that .. freak!"  
  
"Calm down. I can take care of this," McMahon assured. "I'll simply double security. That way, no little people will be harassing you OR any other WWF superstar in the future."  
  
Raven slaps down his championship belt, causing it to totally fall apart. Vince and Raven gaze at the scattered pieces for a moment.  
  
"I really need to use something else to represent the Hardcore division," Vince realized.  
  
"Screw the belt right now," Raven spoke enraged. "There's a million of those crappy replicas you sell that can be used! What you need to concentrate on is keeping that damn leprechaun wanna-be out of my hair!"  
  
Vince takes offense and retaliates. "Listen here, you son of a bitch! I'm the BOSS, meaning I run this show! Don't give me shit or you'll be walking the unemployment line! Tell ya what ... I'll double security and gave you a police escort to the arena. How's that?"  
  
"Sounds fine, Vince. When does it go into effect," Raven edged on.  
  
"The second you walk out that door," Vince proclaimed.  
  
Shaking his head, Raven glanced around. "Okay, then. See ya tomorrow in Hattiesburg, Mississippi." He gathers the remains of his belt and heads toward the door. Raven grabs the door knob and turns towards Vince. "Once I step out this door, right?"  
  
"Once you step out that door," McMahon backed his words.  
  
Raven twisted the knob, silently exiting. One foot makes it out the door before Zim tackles him across the hall. GIR follows behind shortly.  
  
Vince runs to the door. "SECURITY!!!"  
  
Next, we see a Stacker 2 commercial starring the WWF superstar, Kane, and Bloaty, the pizza hog. They're at Bloaty's Pizza. Kane sits at a table to himself and tries to eat a slice of pizza. However, the way his mask is made won't allow him.  
  
Here comes Bloaty waddling along. "Yeah, aaaa ... Kane .. You stupid *censored*! Take off that *censored* mask!"  
  
Kane jumps up from the table and goes for a body slam. Grunting and straining, Kane slightly nudges him before falling to his knees, holding his back. Bloaty tries turning to waddle to the back, but he trips and rocks the restaurant's foundation. People are thrusted from their seats. A woman with a Stacker 2 poster leaps in front of the camera, popping it up to cover the screen. A ambulance siren sounds.  
  
The announcer tries drowning out the noise. "Stacker 2! It's the world's strongest fat burner!"  
  
Taking down the poster, we catch a view of Kane on a stretcher being rolled pass Bloaty who's being hooked to pulleys. Kane reaches out a bottle of Stacker 2 to Bloaty and pats him on the back as the commercial goes off.  
  
Fading into WWF Sunday Night Heat, Vince McMahon has just watched the previous in his office. "First the Big Show, and now Kane! No more advertising Bloaty with my talent. By this rate, every wrestler on the roster will have pulled backs and compressed spines!"  
  
Vince rubs his temples as the next match is announced. It's Raven nervously pushing a shopping cart of various items to ringside. There, he unloads the cart, tossing the trash can lids, cookie sheets, and stuff into the ring.  
  
He grabs a unfamiliar foreign object. It's nothing he through in on his way to the arena. Peeking down, he's shocked to see GIR in the referee shirt. releasing his neck, Raven backs up, scanning the crowd. Zim leaps out from under the commentary table.  
  
"What in the Hell," Michael Cole exclaimed.  
  
Tazz snickers. "Hey! I didn't know you brought your kid with ya, Cole! Ha! Ha!"  
  
Crawling on Jim Ross' cowboy hat on his head, Zim delivers a death defying drop kick. Raven's sent into the security railing. Going for the time keeper's bell, he pummels Raven bloody.  
  
Hooking Raven's leg, Zim calls out to GIR. "Get over here!"  
  
GIR untangles himself from the ring ropes he was play with, and springs to ringside. "ONE, TWO, .. THREE!" GIR picks up the bell and rings it off his head.  
  
"HA!!! Told you I would reign SUPREME," Zim ripped the title belt away from Raven's waist.  
  
Out from the crowd, the ramp way and from under the ring, security guards surround Zim from all sides. Closing in, Zim twitches his eye. They pile on him to form a small hill as they pound away at him.  
  
GIR checks around, then decides to count a pinfall. After doing so, GIR squeezes in. Digging out to the top, GIR raises the hand of a selected security guard. The crowd goes into a frenzy.  
  
Raven tackles the guard and sends GIR flying up in the noise bleed section. Rolling down the other side of the mountain of people, Raven manhandles the guy. A WWF referee darts out from the back to ref Raven's assault. It turns out to be a easy victory for the newly crowned Hardcore champ.  
  
Without hesitation, Raven flees from the scene. His would-be opponent, Crash Holly, runs out, attempting to block his escape route. Literally getting ran over, Crash fails to stop him.  
  
"But .. What about our match," Crash squeaks before passing out.  
  
Order is restored at ringside as security spread out and apprehend Zim to be escorted out. In the back, Vince McMahon gets on the telephone as he glances at the monitor.  
  
"Hello. This is Vince. Find out where this green boy lives. I want to have a word with him."  
  
The next day, inside Zim's base, GIR makes himself comfortable on the couch with a Classic Poop. Glaring at the tv, he sits back and enjoys a episode of SpongeBob SquarePants. Meanwhile, Zim scrubs the kitchen floor in an attempt to keep his base of operations germ free as possible. Despite the MacMeaties incident, he still cleans the house of any tiny intruders on a regular basis. To be certain of absolute germ annihilation, Zim sports a pair of Microgoggles.  
  
"Germs! Oh, so many germs! No one - NOT EVEN YOOOOU - will sabotage my mission! One day! Oh, yes! One day, I will eliminate each single one of you bity pest off this spinning ball of dirt! You're days are -"  
  
The telephone rings, interrupting the surge of madness flowing through Zim's head. Pulling off the yellow rubber gloves and the tissue boxes off his feet, he answers the call.  
  
"Hello," Zim greeted.  
  
"Is this the ... Zim residence," a deep tone voice responses.  
  
"Who wants to know?"  
  
"This is the World Wrestling Federation Entertainment, Incorporated talent agency." The person's voice then becomes muffled. "For goodness' sake, can't they shorten the damn name!?! It was simply the 'World Wrestling Federation' a year or two ago!'  
  
Another voice can be hear. "Do whatever! Just shut up and get on with it!"  
  
"Yes." The voice returns loud and clear. "We, on Mister McMahon's behalf, wish to discuss contract n-, n-, AH we want to do business, buddy!"  
  
".. Oookay," Zim agreed. "When will you guys be over?"  
  
They cut off, and there's a knock at the door. Zim hangs up and answers it. Amazingly, it's two WWF agents. They're a man and a woman dressed in jet black, dry clean suits with the WWF logo on their jackets.  
  
"You must be the one who called," Zim told the man.  
  
"No, I am," the woman spoke up before clearing her throat. "May we come in?"  
  
"Of course. Right this way," Zim showed them in.  
  
Setting GIR in the floor, the agents seat down on the couch and open their briefcases. Turning them towards Zim, the hundred dollar bills jammed pack inside becomes visible.  
  
"The World Wrestling Federation is willing to offer you all this money in cash to sign on with its talent roster." The woman smiles.  
  
"But if your performance is unsatisfactory or you quit, we take back the dough plus a dollar," the man adds before getting elbowed in the ribs by his partner.  
  
"But who's worried about details!?!," she grows nervous. "Besides, Mister McMahon guarantees a Hardcore title shot right off the bat," The woman loosens her collar. "So, what do ya say!?!"  
  
Zim crosses his arms and taps his foot, making the agents drench in a cold sweat.  
  
"You drive a hard bargain there. You know I can easily show at the next event and invite myself in like I've been."  
  
"Okay! Okay! We'll give you a commercial deal and more! Please SIGN," both drop to their knees, bowing their heads.  
  
Through the storm of fluttering dollar bills, GIR hops up and down. The man lifts his head, and Zim props his foot on it.  
  
"I accept your most generous offer," evilly Zim spoke.  
  
The agents smile with tears running down their cheeks as everything fades to black with echoes of Zim's chaotic laughter. The next thing we see are wrestlers of all shapes and sizes gather in what appears to be a supply room. After everybody settles down at provided seats and tables, Vince McMahon struts down the middle accompanied by Zim. Moving to the back of the room, he makes a announcement.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, the WWF has invested a great deal of time and money to enhance the quality of its talent! From upraising fresh new performers to running WCW and ECW out of business, we continue to ascend! However, here lately, the World Wrestling Federation has hit a plateau! At first, I saw no way of pulling us out of this rut! Then he showed up!" Vince points at Zim. "Once again, the ratings and merchandise sales will sky rocket .... and it will all start with Raw Is War! It will be Zim VERSUS Raven for the Hardcore title!"  
  
"I PROTEST!" Raven stands up on his table near the door.  
  
"WHAT," McMahon shouts.  
  
"What!?! What!?! What," Steve Austin hollows.  
  
He gets a bunch of stares before Raven resumes his complaint.  
  
"You're crazy, if you think I'm gonna face him again in a hardcore bout! He got his shots! He used up his chances! I say let someone else take care of him!" Eyeballing Vince, Raven holds his hand out with cramping fingers.  
  
"I said Zim will receive another title shot, and that's finial," McMahon orders.  
  
"I still haven't got MY title shot," Crash Holly wines.  
  
"... And Crash will be involved, also," Vince adds.  
  
"Crash, too!?! How many times will I have to whip his ass before the madness ends," Raven asks.  
  
"I can't make everybody happy," McMahon comments. "I can do only so much! The Hardcore championship match will take place on Raw. The participants are Crash, Zim and Raven. Anybody ELSE!?!"  
  
Silence fills the room for the exception of Steve Austin yelling 'What!?!' Taking out a napkin from his jacket pocket, Vince wipes away the beads of sweat on his forehead.  
  
"Everybody's happy, right?"  
  
"What!?! What!?! What," Steve Austin goes on and on.  
  
"I'm NOT," Raven acknowledges.  
  
"You're nobody! You don't count," McMahon replies. "Now, if Zim doesn't have anything to say, then all of ya are dismissed till later tonight."  
  
"I would like to leave everyone with one thing," Zim speaks softly. "ANY RESISTANCE WILL BE NOTED!!!"  
  
"What!?! What!?! What," Steve Austin continues.  
  
Vince McMahon waves his hand, signaling the dismissal. Steve Austin remains in his seat repeating 'What' as Zim and the others get up and leave. Heading for the door, Raven hesitates and marches up to Vince.  
  
"What is it now," McMahon questions.  
  
"What!?! What!?! What!?!"  
  
Vince and Raven turn their heads. Sighing, they try to ignore Austin.  
  
"Come on, Vince! Is this bullshit necessary? I mean you can find better guys then this," Raven edges Vince to reconsider.  
  
"I saw the hell this Lucky Charms guy gave you! Zim's on his way to being a hardcore legend," McMahon declined.  
  
".. But I thought I was to be the next hardcore legend." Raven's eyes water.  
  
"First Crash, then you, and now Zim. Who knows!?! One day I may let Bloaty compete! He's been taking out the big names in those damn Stacker 2 commercials," Vince ironically jokes.  
  
"Okay! How about throwing Zim to the pig!?! The greasy pig! Doom piggy! Doomy, doom," Raven teased.  
  
Vince pops a grin. "That's not a bad idea! Thanks for the suggestion."  
  
"Whatever," Raven stomps away.  
  
"What!?! What!?! What!?!"  
  
Slamming the door open, Raven gets a whooping laid on him by Zim and Crash. GIR can be seen circling the brawl with his ref shirt over his head.  
  
We go to another Stacker 2 commercial. It's at a drive-thru window at a Bloaty's Pizza restaurant. Zim walks around the corner in a cardboard cut-out car and stops at the window. Bloaty hands him his order, and Zim slaps him with dollar bills  
  
Zim looks in the bag. "Disgusting lard beast! Where's my Cherry Poop!?!"  
  
"Move it, you *censored* before you get hurt," Bloaty reads off a script.  
  
Zim tosses a slice of pizza in Bloaty's face, making a mess. "I want my shake now, scary p- IIIIIII"  
  
Bloaty tips over and fall through the wall, squashing Zim.  
  
Bloaty blabbers out, "Bloaty eat too many pizza!"  
  
The announcer walks across the screen. "Stacker 2! It's the world's strongest fat burner!" He opens a bottle of Stacker 2 and dumps it over Bloaty as he walks off camera.  
  
Following the commercial comes WWF Raw is War. They take us to Raven's title defense that has been in progress an hour before the show even aired.  
  
At the snack bar, GIR sits on the register as a fan girl hand feeds him. Meanwhile, Zim is forced to fork out the money to pay for GIR's sugar crave. Out from the bar, a small crowd circles the brawling Crash and Raven. Both men are supplied with weapons by the surrounding fans. Using the silly weapons of hardcore mayhem such as rolls of toilet paper, baseball caps and the almighty cookie sheets, the tide switches back and forth. Immediately paying the snack bar dude, Zim gets reinvolved.  
  
"OKAY," Zim scowls. "Who wants a piece of me!"  
  
A roll of toilet paper bounces off his forehead. "Okay. I think I'll sit this one out."  
  
Zim turns back for the snack bar, but gets jerked back in the fight by his collar. He's thrashed with frozen hard snow cones delivered by Raven. Crash scans the area for something new to hurt people with. He sights a fire extinguisher on a nearby wall. He goes for it. Raven notices Crash is wondering off, and lets up on Zim to go after him.  
  
Zim raises off the floor. "Need to end this madness quickly, but how!?!"  
  
That moment, Crash reaches the extinguisher and holes down Raven. He's a block of cold foamy stuff now. Crash starts towards Zim. Discovering bottles of water on sale, Zim buys two at the bar. As Crash releases the foamy death ray, Zim squirts the water. It reflects the foam onto Crash. Zim takes the opportunity offered to him.  
  
Kicking over the frozen Crash, Zim does a cocky pin with one foot. "GIR! It's time."  
  
"But I haven't finished my pixi stick!" The fan girl then tilts it for him.  
  
"GIR! It's not the time for food! Get here and complete your mission," Zim commanded.  
  
"Oh, okay."  
  
GIR's picked up and sat down by the fan, who he signs her shirt. Baseball sliding over to Zim and Crash, GIR begins the count.  
  
"ONE ... TWO ... No! Wait!"  
  
"What's wrong," Zim wanted to know. "Forgot how to count to three!?!"  
  
"Nooo. His shoulders aren't touching the floor," GIR officiated.  
  
Zim gets on his hands and knees to check. The foamy ice has wrapped all around him. The same goes for Raven.  
  
"Incredible! Now, what am I suppose to do!?!"  
  
GIR raises his hand.  
  
"Yes, GIR," Zim asked.  
  
"We can wait for them to melt," GIR suggested.  
  
"I guess so. To quicken the progress, we'll simply have to drag them to the boiler room."  
  
A while later, cameramen are filming Zim anxious for the chance to end this contest. GIR plays with his Scary Monkey doll as they wait. Before you know it, the blocks begin thawing.  
  
Zim mounts the blocks. "Hurry, GIR! They'll be totally dissolved in a matter of seconds."  
  
GIR inspects their shoulders. "Not yet ... Yes! No .. I think -"  
  
"Are they touching the floor or not," Zim demands.  
  
"It's all foamy! So much foam! Scary Monkey wants to play!" GIR splats the doll in the foam.  
  
Zim steps off. "If you can't tell, give the shirt to one of these camera monkeys!"  
  
Breaking free, Crash rolls up Zim for the count, but the foam makes them slippery. Stumbling around, they crack Raven's block, setting him free. The title match resumes. Each tries different methods of holding one of the others down with no success.  
  
Over the hour that passes, WWF decides to move on with the remaining matches. All the while, Zim, Crash and Raven slowly work their way to the arena. By this time, most of the foam has been beaten, scrapped, wiped or washed off in some manner.  
  
Entering through curtains onto the ramp way, we see a Women's title match taking place inside the ring. Tripping over GIR, who got in the way, the Hardcore contenders flop to ringside. Weakened, our Hardcore champion makes a break for it by crawling in the ring. Tossing Zim over the guard rail, Crash follows after him.  
  
On their way in, the guys bump into the ladies. Jazz and Trish are not amused by this interruption. The official for the match calls it a double disqualification. Both women are pissed. Teaming up, they have their way with the boys. Apparently, the Women's title match has integrated into the Hardcore championship bout.  
  
Whipping Crash into a far off corner, Jazz and Trish double ddt Raven. Both hooking a leg, making the referee counts their pins. Raising the two women's hands in the air, he declares both co-holders of the title.  
  
Recovering, Zim climbs over the railing beside of GIR who's playing with his Scary Monkey doll. Aggravated over the lost, Zim cast GIR into the ring on the ladies. Knocking them unconscious, GIR receives a pinfall by the other ref.  
  
Zim slaps himself as the scene flips over to the Membrane house. Dib is raving mad over catching Zim on tv.  
  
"Be quit! I'm trying to watch wrestling," Gaz spoke up.  
  
"But Gaz! Zim's on television!" Dib clinch his fist.  
  
"So," Gaz said uninterested.  
  
"So!?! So, what is he doing at a wrestling show!?!" He points at the tv set all shaky-like.  
  
"The show's called Raw is War, you know? Zim's been on since Saturday," Gaz informed her clueless brother.  
  
"Since Saturday!?! Gaz! Why haven't you told me!"  
  
"What!?! So, I can watch you make a complete ass of yourself on tv!?! I don't think so. I get enough of it here at home and skool." Gaz pops a sucker in her mouth.  
  
"Whatever."  
  
'Stone Cold' Steve Austin covers the tv screen hollowing 'What'. Dib shakes off the thought, and goes to his room. The whole WWF roster runs out and tramples the moron.  
  
"THAT'S IT! SKIN THAT RATTLESNAKE! I'M TIRED OF LISTENING TO HIS CRAP," Gaz cheered on the tv massacre.  
  
On his bed, Dib pulls out his lab top computer.  
  
"When is the next live event for the World Wrestling Federation," Dib thinks out loud. Surfing the web, he goes to the WWF webpage.  
  
"Thursday Night Smackdown, huh? From the looks of Zim, I think he'll take a day off. What's the next televised program?"  
  
Scanning down the page, WWF Backlash appears in big bold letters. "A pay per view? Whatever he's up to, I'm sure it's set for Backlash! MY ONLY PROBLEM IS .. Getting to Kansas City, Missouri."  
  
Dib contacts the Swollen Eyeball organization on his computer as we go to Zim's locker room in the Missouri arena. Zim's pacing back and forth while GIR admires a prototype of a WWF GIR action figure along with the Hardcore belt.  
  
"You gonna play with yours, master!"  
  
"No, GIR," Zim stuck head out from behind a magazine. "This Hardcore bit is taking me nowhere! I don't understand! My resources told me hardcore was a big thing, yet I haven't seen a person looking like this!"  
  
Zim dumped the magazine along with a stake of others in the floor. On the covers, it reads Hustler.  
  
"No more fooling around! I'll skip this Intercontinental title match McMahon scheduled me for, and go STRAIGHT TO THE TOP!"  
  
The Intercontinental champion, Rob Van Dam stands at the ring's center. The official starts the count for a ring-out.  
  
"... ONE ..."  
  
"I'm Rob Van Dam," the champ says, pointing at himself.  
  
"... TWO ..."  
  
"The 'Whole *censored* Show'," he adds.  
  
"... THREE ..."  
  
"Mister Pay-Per-View," Rob continues.  
  
"... FOUR ..."  
  
"I'm Rob Van Dam!"  
  
The referee turns towards him. "Well, you shut up!?! I'm trying to count here!"  
  
"But I'm 'The Whole *censored* Show!', RVD edges on.  
  
Steve Austin rolls to ringside in a wheelchair. "WHAT!?!"  
  
"Mister Pay-Per-View!"  
  
"WHAT!?!"  
  
"THAT'S IT! I quit!" The ref pulls off his shirt and slings it into the crowd. He steps out between the top and middle rope, and out through the fans.  
  
Backstage, Vince McMahon grows worried. "Where in Hell is Zim!?! He's here somewhere! Why didn't he come out!?!"  
  
His phone rings.  
  
"Wha- I mean, Who is this," Vince answered.  
  
"The people are getting quite restless with Austin and RVD exchanging words. You want security to drag them out," a staff member suggested.  
  
"Go ahead. It looks like Zim isn't gonna show. Lets end the card with Undertaker versus Triple-H for the Undisputed World Championship."  
  
"There's a problem with that, sir," The executive let known. "The Undertaker's sick. He called in at the last moment. Gotta fill in."  
  
"Damn ... Aaaaaa, make it a open challenge or something. I don't know." Vince hangs up. "Why me?"  
  
Triple-H makes his entrance as Rob Van Dam and Steve are being tazered out of the building. He has a fancy pyro display before making his way to the ring. On the apron, Triple-H takes a drink from the bottle he's carrying, spitting out a mist over the front row people. Going between the ropes, he's handed a mic.  
  
"It would appear the Undertaker has chickened out! Good for him! He saved himself from a major ass whippin'! Despite not having a opponent, I'm not gonna let you people down! If it's a show you want, then it's a show you'll get! I challenge anyone in the locker room to step forth, and take a beaten that only their daddies can give!"  
  
Triple-H works the fans while management agrees on a worthy contender. However, Zim will not wait long enough for that to happen. Sneaking pass placed security around the entry way, Zim drugs them with some sort of sleeping gas. All passed out, Zim and GIR struts out on the ramp.  
  
"I'M YOUR CHALLENGER!!! Get ready to rumble, worm monkey!" Zim charges to the ring.  
  
Sliding in, he's pounded with a few forearm smashes before being whipped off the ropes. Bouncing off, Zim catches a big knee, sending him to the mat. Triple-H pulls him up by his head and scoop slams. Coming off the ropes again, Triple-H drops an elbow. Covering Zim, he gets a two count.  
  
Forcing him back up, Triple-H sends him to a corn followed by a knee to the gut. Flopping out, Zim lays flat on his back. Going to the second turnbuckle, Triple-H hits Zim with yet another knee. He hooks a leg for a near-fall.  
  
Getting to his feet, Triple-H tries a knee drop, but Zim moves out of the way. Having the champ on his hands and knees, Zim does a triple powerbomb pin for a two count.  
  
Zim thanks his Irken military training for the strength as he stomps away at his opponent. Grapping two handfuls of hair, Zim head butts him, causing him to stumble to the ropes. Zim whips him off to the other side, delivering a hard Clothesline on his return. Using his spider pack, Zim posts himself on the top turnbuckle.  
  
"Today is the day the Irken Empire RULES YOU AL- What the ..." Zim catches a glimpse of Dib fighting his way through the crowd. "You will not succeed, Dib! I already have your planet's World title won! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! NO!!!"  
  
Triple-H get his second wind, tossing Zim off the turnbuckle to the opposite corner. Triple-H signals for the Pedigree. He sticks Zim's head between his legs and locks Zim's arms behind his back, driving him face-first into the mat. Rolling Zim over, Triple-H gets a three count to retain his title.  
  
Dib finally makes it to ringside and has a tug-of-war with GIR over the Hardcore belt. Exiting the ring, Triple-H bangs their heads together. Dropping them to the floor, he stands on them.  
  
"IIII," Dib screams in pain.  
  
GIR laughs, pretending to have a fight between the Scary Monkey doll and his action figure.  
  
The ref jets over and counts the pin. Triple-H is now declared the Hardcore champion, too. Zim gains consciousness as Triple-H leaves the arena. Setting upright, Zim views a commercial on the Titantron. It's of a game convention sponsored by Bloaty's Pizza and Game Slave 2. The crowd goes into a trance.   
  
"GIR, lets go home! I've found a more 'conventional' way to conquer Earth."  
  
With a close-up of the Titantron, we then zoom out to the malfunctioning monitor on the Armada flagship. Nik, with mop in hand, finishes watching Backlash when a cup of Poop splatters on her back.  
  
"Get back to work," Purple yells from the hall. "I've made ten additional messes for you to clean!"  
  
Red comes over the intercom. "And I made twenty! SLACKER!"  
  
Purple rips the mop from Nik's hands and beats the intercom with it. 


	3. Preliminary Arrangements

Chapter Three:  
Preliminary Arrangements  
  
Later that Sunday night, a brownish-green Volkswagen Turbo Beetle cruisers far away from the Kemper Arena. Pulling onto the interstate highway, we get a peek of who's inside. It's Dib accompanied by two fellow Swollen Eyeball members. Both agents' identities, however, are concealed by shadows and black clothing. One's driving and the other's conversing with Dib about tonight's earlier operation. Quite difficult really since they are all crunched up in that compacted vehicle.  
  
"Why couldn't we get a minivan for this mission," Dib scrambled. "There's no room in this thing!"  
  
"If contacted sooner, a station wagon might've been available," replied the SEB comrade.  
  
"But you had almost a week in advance! How much more time do you need!?!" Dib pops his hip back into place. "Ah! That feels better!"  
  
"Now your butt's in my face, Agent Moth-Man," the man pushes Dib's rear to the side, popping it out again.  
  
"AW! Hey! That hurts," Dib exclaims.  
  
"Sorry. The counsel needs, at least, a full two weeks in advance, Moth-Man. I though you knew that." The agent lays his head in a nice comfortable position, allowing Dib to move a little more freely.  
  
Once again, Dib gets his ass straighten out. "Thanks, but when did that came into regulation," he asked.  
  
"The night you called," the agent sounded like a smart aleck.  
  
"Try keeping me better informed next time, okay?" Dib stretches out his arm up front across the dashboard.  
  
The driver gets irritated. "Quite moving around! I'm trying to drive, you know?"  
  
"Sorry," Dib apologizes.  
  
"So, Agent Moth-Man," the other agent gets Dib's attention. "How did tonight's investigation go?"  
  
"Unbelievable! I was this close," Dib shows with his thumb and index finger. "That Triple-A, Triple-X or whatever his name is just happened to overcome Zim before I got to ringside. I tried to apprehend a title belt from his little robot's hands with no success. All of the WWF championships are safe once more, however, due to being stepped on!"  
  
"Stepped on," the agent questioned.  
  
"Yes! Stepped on! See, while we were having a tug-of-war, the Triple-Q guy stepped up and banged our heads together. After we fell to the floor, he propped one foot on each of us. I guess it being a 'Falls-Count-Anywhere' title or something, a referee came by and counted the pin. Picking up the ragged belt, he left the arena. Thus was saved the World Wrestling Federation from Zim's evil grasp!"  
  
"I see," the man commented. "What happened afterwards?"  
  
"Well, I was still trying to catch my breathe as the alien robot was summoned by its master. All I could hear was Zim saying something about a more conventional way to conquer Earth while staring at the big screen thingy."  
  
"What did the big screen show? Any clues to what the next scheme is?"  
  
"It showed a game convention advertisement. Sponsored by Bloaty and Game Slave 2, I think it's gonna be held in my hometown. I'll do some research, but I think Zim will strike there next!"  
  
"Without acknowledging proof, the Swollen Eyeballs cannot assist in anyway," Dib's associate informed.  
  
"I'll go along, if I have to," Dib boldly spoke. "It's too risky not to go. Only if I knew what Zim's up to."  
  
"All I can say, Moth-Man, is good luck."  
  
The driver announces. "Embrace for pick up in four .. Three .. Two .."  
  
From the distance, a F-22A Raptor jet flies down low. Passing swiftly over the Volkswagen, four prongs dart out from its belly. Clamping hold of the car, the Raptor lefts off, carrying Dib and his fellow agents home at supersonic speeds without after burn.  
  
Several minutes later, the jet and car arrive at their destination. Scooping towards a short stretch of road, the Raptor cuts its cables, skidding the Beetle up to the Membrane house. The passenger door opens, and Dib flops out on the sidewalk. Immediately the door shuts, and they drive off in the pitch black of night leaving Dib waving.  
  
"Thanks, guys! I don't know what I could do without you," Dib shouted.  
  
"Well, I know what you can do," Gaz could be heard at the front door. "Get in here!"  
  
"Okay." Dib sprinted to the house.  
  
With Dib making it pass the door, Gaz slams it shut. The impact vibrates pictures off the wall. Dib jumps on the couch, grabbing the remote. Gaz, on the other hand, heads to her room.  
  
"Gaz, you didn't tape Mysterious Mysteries for me."  
  
"You should've came home earlier," Gaz suggested.  
  
"But I was out saving the World," Dib explains.  
  
"Yeah! Well, I had to stay up because dad wanted me to make sure your got back home tonight!" Gaz walks back, turning the couch on its back. "You know how late it is!?! It's two hours pass my bed time!"  
  
Dib picks himself off the floor. "I'm sorry, Gaz, but this was really important!"  
  
She goes nose-to-nose with him. "Oh, I saw you on tv. You got stepped on by Triple-H. That's your 'Saving-the-World' work!" Gaz allows Dib to speak who doesn't respond. "You disgust me."  
  
Dib steps back, shying away "Gaz, I-"  
  
Gaz cuts him off. "I better not be cranky in the morning. If so ..." She reaches out, grabbing a hand full of his hair, eyeballing him. ".. You will payyyyy!"  
  
She pushing him down on the couch before heading off to bed. Dib takes off his glasses and massages his temples.  
  
Back on the Armada flagship, Nik has finally completed her chores for the day. Fleeing to her quarters, Nik crawls into bed. Wrapping herself in the blankets and hugging the pillow, Nik hopes for a good sleep before getting disturbed for another round of sanitation and maid service. Quickly she passes out.  
  
"Oh, pillow ... So soft and fluffy," Nik rambles in her sleep. "You're sweet to me, you know?" She squeezes it tighter. "I'll never leave you again ... Duties .. are ... poop!"  
  
The intercom clicks on, and so does the lights. "Attention! Attention! Trainee Nik! Report for the Almighty Tallest Measuring! I repeat! Trainee Nik! Report for the Tallest Measuring! You number's up," reports the Irken announcer.  
  
Nik rolls over on her back, covering her head with the pillow. "Pillow, yes .. Tape measure, bad. No-no. Light, no good."  
  
"You will attend the Tallest Measuring, now!" The announcer signs off.  
  
Hidden jacks raise one side of Nik's bed, sliding her off into the floor. Still clinging onto the pillow, Nik curls into a ball. The floor underneath her opens, shooting her through a tube ending with a ceiling drop on the front deck.  
  
Awoken by the fall, Nik stands in attention with her beloved blue pillow toted under her right armpit. Her heavy eyelids keep wanting to drop as she's handed the tape by a taller commanding officer. Saluting him, Nik drags her foot across the floor three steps away from Red and Purple.  
  
Both have arms crossed with heads turned in opposite directions. Staring up at the ceiling, each groans at the other. Neither one moves. Standing as tall as one possibly can get, they simultaneously give the go-ahead.  
  
With bowed back, Nik creeps over to a provided step ladder. Climbing up midway, she whips out the inch tape measure.  
  
First checking Purple then Red, Nik calls out the heights. "Purple: six feet, eleven inches! Red: seven feet!"  
  
"YES," Red cheers, waving his hands in the air.  
  
Purple turns around. "That can't be right," he protests. "Everyone one else got seven feet for both of us!"  
  
"Maybe you where tippy toeing during the past six million, eighty two thousand and ninety five measurements," Red accuses.  
  
Purple hesitates for a brief moment. "We hover, man. Where do you get this stuff?"  
  
"MOTHER OF IRK!!! That's the first uneven count thus far! Are you sure, NIK!?!" The officer's heart pounds.  
  
Nik pretends to double checks. "Purple: six feet, eleven inches! Red: seven feet! I'm positive!"  
  
"This is plain out insane," Purple bursts out.  
  
"Yo, Purple," Red calls out.  
  
Purple gets sucker-punched which resumes the fight at the Inevitable Victory celebration. The broadcast throws the Irken Empire into panic. Everyone's running around senselessly, tearing up stuff.  
  
All the while, in her dazed state, Nik bares the smirk of victory. "Pillow *yawns* I did it. I'm destroying the Irken Empire *yawns* All that's left to do ... Is taking me a little nap," she thinks.  
  
Laying back on the ground, Nik takes her pillow and buries her face. In a matter of seconds, she's sound asleep. In the background, Red and Purple can be seen trading blows. The last we see of the brawl is when Red's ran through a large navigational screen. Black smoke fills the deck, blinding sight.  
  
Returning to Earth, two eyes peek out from under a manhole in the road crossing the Membrane residence. Spotting no one in sight, the stubby dark figure creeps out of the sewer, and shuffles across the Membrane front yard. Dashing from a light pole, to the mailbox, to a bush, and finally against the house, the stranger then worms his way under a window. Peeking in, what's seen is an abandoned living room with a end table lamp on. The stranger moves along.  
  
Inspecting around the right side of the house, the figure travels to the back. Noticing a dim light on the second floor, stubby detaches a grappling hook from his utility belt. Propelling it onto the window ledge, he climbs up the rope to take a look inside. Spying through the window, he sees Dib rolling around in his sleep grumbling something about Zim. After taking a glance around the room to check out the black light paranormal posters and stuff, the boy slides down and journeys to the left of the house.   
  
Bit by bit, the figure crawls up to the next window. There, he locates Gaz laying in her bed with arms crossed over her chest with the blankets drawled up to her waist. His eyes widen and he begins to shake. Leaning against the wall, the person wipes away sweat from his shaded forehead. Pulling out a pixy stick, he downs some of its sugary goodness to help settle his nerves.  
  
Once a little relaxed, he sticks the pixy stick back in a pocket and sets out to do what he came for. Unsnapping a glass cutter from his belt, he carves a small circle out of the window pane. Popping it out with a suction cup, he reaches in with his thick arm and releases the lock. Gradually pushing up the window, the boy then heads in. Clumsy, he flops in.  
  
Immediately, he throws up his arm in fear of waking her. Luckily for him, she's undisturbed by his sudden entrance. Jerking out the pixy stick again, he pours a tidbit into a palm and finishes off the rest. He then slowly straightens himself up into a standing position. Gripping the pixy stick sugar, he steps cautiously beside the bed. Placing his free hand on her shoulder, he nudges her a couple of times. She moans and turns over. He waits a moment and tries again. Gaz growls and rolls over to her other side, facing him.  
  
"Dib, you'll gonna pay for waking me!"  
  
She reaches for the lamp on her nightstand. Gaz squints one eye with the other shut as she pulls the cord. The sugar is automatically blown into her opened eye as the light clicked on. She falls on the floor, covering her eye, moaning in pain. The mystery person escapes through the window as Gaz bangs a fist on the carpeted floor. Hitting his head on the ground outside, he ignores his boo-boo and quickly darts up the street, laughing insanely.  
  
Seconds later, Dib bursts through her bedroom door. Finding her prone on the floor, he's frighten of what might've happened. Dib runs over to check on her.  
  
"Gaz! What's wrong!?! Gaz! Speak to me!," he urges as he grows more worried.  
  
Gaz takes her pounding fist and uses it to help cover her eye. Coming on her back, Gaz groans, grinding her teeth. Dib attempts to pull away her hands to take a look at her eye, but she bitch slaps him on his butt. He shakes off his irritation, and crawls back over to her.  
  
"Don't worry, Gaz! I'll call dad and a ambulance! Everything's gonna be okay," Dib assured her. But all the while, he's thinking "Zim, you bastard".  
  
Changing over to Zim's house, Zim sits on the toilet seat in the kitchen with his legs crossed and his chin resting in a gloved hand. Plotting his game convention scheme, Zim writes his plans of action on a Irken notepad screen thingy. He chuckles at his thoughts, but is expectedly interrupted by GIR. Staring up with narrow eyes, he watches GIR viewing a recording of the pay per view incident for the fifteenth times.  
  
Zim's tolerance runs out when GIR rewinds the Triple H battle one more time. Storing the notepad thingy in his back pack, Zim marches to the living room. Grabbing GIR by the legs, Zim slings him around a couple of times before sending him through the television screen. Sighing, Zim smiles in relief.  
  
As fast as he went in, GIR hops out of the busted tv tube. Zim looks on blankly as GIR steps over to the couch. Picking up the remote control off a couch arm, GIR ejects the laser disc. He goes to take the disc, but Zim snatches it before GIR could get his cute little robot hands on it.  
  
"No, GIR! You watched too much already," Zim snapped at his SIR. "We don't dwell on past failures! We forget them and move on to more devious and doomy plots! DOOM!"  
  
"But I wanna see Dib get stepped on again," GIR shouted, waving his arms.  
  
"Dib? He got stepped on," Zim asked.  
  
GIR starts jumping, trying to take the laser disc Zim is holding over his head. "Yeah *grunts* Dibby got stepped on *moans* by the half-naked guy *groans*!"  
  
"You mean Triple-Poo," Zim corrected.  
  
GIR tries climbing Zim's leg. "Yeah! The big man you was horse playing with!"  
  
"Oh ... Well, I guess I'll let you watch -ONE MORE TIME- only," Zim proclaimed. "However, you need to keep it down. I'm working on the brainwashing microchip I'm gonna install in the consoles at the humans' pitiful game convention."  
  
"That was a mouthful," GIR exclaimed.  
  
"Run along," Zim ordered as he handed GIR the laser disc.  
  
Later, Gaz is being transported by a speedy ambulance to the local hospital. The paramedics does the regular routine with checking her purse and other vital signs while she holds a moist cloth over her eye. Accompanying Gaz is Dib. Over reacting, he grasp one of her hands, pleading with God for her to be alright.  
  
"It's not that bad, Dib. Now, let go of my hand before I pound you," Gaz threatened.  
  
"But Gaz! If this is the work of Zim, it can be anything," Dib speculated.  
  
Gaz jerks her hand away from Dib. "Zim? Give me a break! Whoever it was, it wasn't Zim!"  
  
"How do you know that," Dib questions.  
  
"From what I could tell, the person was tubby. That, and I don't think Zim would be after me," Gaz explains. "You're his 'archenemy', remember?"  
  
"He maybe using you to get to me! Have you ever thought about that," Dib bursted out. "And the being tubby part is nothing more than a disguise to throw me off! I just know it."  
  
Gaz laughed under her breathe. "You don't know anything, Dib. Your stupid conspiracies and belt-sanding Big Foot have rotten your brain."  
  
"Hey! I saw him in the garage, and it so happened that the belt-sander was his tool of choose," Dib tried to debate.  
  
"Whatever, Dib. Whatever. I just want to get this over with so I can get back to bed," Gaz made clear.  
  
Dib covers his eyes eyes with a hand. "No one believes me."  
  
The paramedic that's attending to Gaz stops for a moment, and gets the attention of the driver. "Hey, Mac," she whispers. "We might want to examine the big headed kid. This trauma must of been pretty hard on the boy."  
  
"You're not kiddin'," the driver replies.  
  
Dib glances over. "What are you two talking about?"  
  
"Oh, nothing," the woman went on innocently.  
  
Upon reaching the hospital's emergency exit, the ambulance spins around, doing a doughnut. The back doors fly open, and Gaz on her stretcher is shoved out, knocking a existing nurse. Gripping tight, the paramedic rears back and shoots Gaz through the emergency exit doors down a hall. A doctor at the hall's end stops the out of control stretcher with a single hand then escorts Gaz around the corner to an vacant room. Back outside, Dib is making his way off the ambulance.  
  
"Oh .. I forgot one," the paramedic spots Dib.  
  
"I'll be okay. I can find my way around," Dib told.  
  
"Let me give ya a hand," the paramedic insisted as she grabbed him by the collar.  
  
Dib is then sent hurtling down the hall in a straitjacket, slamming into a brick wall ahead. Giving himself a moment to recover from the crash, Dib slips off the loosely fitted straitjacket, noticing a sticky note attached.  
  
"Crazy boy," Dib reads off. "Sent to be evaluated!" He tosses the jacket with the note in a nearby trash can. "What kind of sick joke is this," he wonders. "Never mind! I need to find what room Gaz is being held in."  
  
He journeys around the corner, zigzagging the hall, peeking into each room on his way. Dib runs to Gaz and a doctor accompanied by Professor Membrane in the seventh door on the right. Casually, he steps in.  
  
Membrane looks down at him from his side. "What took you so long, son!?! You knew your sister needs you in this time of need!"  
  
Gaz mumbles "I'm fine."  
  
"But dad! That paramedic lady forced me into a straitjacket and threw me down the hall," Dib explained.  
  
"I'm fine, I said," Gaz continues.  
  
"We'll talk about this more when we get home," Professor grumbled.  
  
"I'm motherfucking fine, people," Gaz yelled out, catching everyone's attention. "It's just a little sugar blown into my eye!"  
  
Professor Membrane whips a pointed finger at the doctor. "Is this true!"  
  
"Aaa, yes. It's just sugar," the doctor assured. "It's nothing serious, really. She'll just have some trouble seeing out of that one eye for a while. All that can be done is to keep a wet cloth over that eye till all the sugar is cleared."  
  
"It being sugar, this shouldn't take no longer than a few minutes, right," Dib asked.  
  
"Actually, no," the doctor informed him. "The sugar blown into her eye is a very, very stubborn type to get out. You see ... it's PIXY STICK SUGAR!"  
  
"Not PIXY STICK SUGAR! Anything but PIXY STICK SUGAR," squalled the Professor.  
  
Dib scratches his head. "Pixy stick sugar?"  
  
"NOOOOOO," Membrane reacted  
  
"What's the big deal about pixy stick sugar," Dib questioned.  
  
"NOOOOOO," Membrane edged on.  
  
The doctor kneels down in front of Dib with his hand on his shoulders. "Poor boy ... PIXY STICK SUGAR -"  
  
"NOOOOOO, the doctor's interrupted.  
  
"It's a highly condensed sugar. The moisture of the eyeball causes it to stick to her like GLUE! With it being in such a sensitive area, we have no choose, but to allow it to wear out." The doctor hugs Dib, and cries over his shoulder.  
  
"COME ON," Dib said in disbelieve. "It's simply sugar! Even the sugar of a PIXY STICK can't be that bad!"  
  
"My DOOMED daughter! WHYYYY," the Professor dropped to his knees. A beeping noise goes off. Professor Membrane checks his transmitter. "Yes."  
  
"We need you back at the lab, sir," an associate notifies. "A guy broke the veils that contained those incurable plaque samples that was gather in Africa moments ago. The shit is spreading like wide fire throughout the complex. There's no way of controlling it. IIIIIII ...."  
  
"Sorry, kids, but I need to go. The world calls for my assistance once more," Professor announced before strutting out the door.  
  
After watching his dad leave, Dib is redirected on the doctor who's still crying on his shoulder. "Get off me," he commands while shoving him off.  
  
"Sorry, kids, but I need to go. The world calls for my assistance once more," Professor announced before strutting out the door.  
  
After watching his dad leave, Dib is redirected on the doctor who's still crying on his shoulder. "Get off me," he commands while shoving him off. "I still think Zim is behind. The pixy stick sugar probably didn't have the exact effect that he hoped for. Whatever occurred and why, I'm gonna find out."  
  
"Be quiet," Gaz yelled from her hospital bed.  
  
The following morning was the day determined for Zim and Dib to return to skool. This Monday started off gloriously for Zim. His plans for the game convention has been layout out and started work on. After a tolerable seven hours of skool and his arch nemesis, he'll resume work and put his plans into action. Until then, he just has to contain his excitement. Now, turning in at the skool front doors, Zim proudly marches in. Traveling a couple of hallways, he closes in on Miss Bitter's class. Only steps away, Dib grabs his shoulder from behind, shocking the Invader.  
  
"Alright, Zim! What's the idea for assaulting my little sister," Dib demands.  
  
Standing shaky and glancing through the corner of his eyes, Zim snaps. "You can't stop me, Dib! My plans for brainwashing your fellow Earth monkeys at the convention is inevitable! The microchips are almost complete and ready for installment tonight! Soon! Very soon all of you dirty creatures will call me MASTERRR!!!"  
  
Dib lets go of Zim's shoulder. "Huh ... What does brainwashing kids got to do with anything," Dib asked confusedly.  
  
"Got to do with what," Zim questioned as he turns to face him. "What, Dib-creature? What madness do you speak?"  
  
Dib places both hands on his hips. "The attack on Gaz .. last night .. in her bedroom .. while she was sleeping," he spoke frustrated.  
  
"I know not of this assault on your scary sister," Zim informed. "I am ZIIIM!!! The amazing one doesn't go so low! I attack head-on while my enemy's awake!"  
  
"What about the room with a moose incident," Dib suggested.  
  
"Well, that was-"  
  
"Or the fake me from the future ordeal to use dad's machine," Dib cuts him off.  
  
"I, uh-"  
  
"How about-"  
  
"Enough! I know what I did!," Zim lashed out. "And I know what I'll do tonight, and that will be to dominate you all! I'll have my way with you, stink beast!"  
  
"Whatever," Dib ignores him. "If it wasn't you, who blew pixy stick sugar in Gaz's eye?"  
  
"I don't know. Why are you asking me!?!"  
  
Zim then realizes that he blurted out his Vampire Piggy scheme as Dib rambles on. Letting such valuable information leak out can be a harm to his mission. Thinking fast, he decides to dispose of the human on the spot. Reaching back to his spider pack, Zim goes for a plasma gun. Before he can grab it, the principal crawls up to the two, tugging on their shirts.  
  
"Please, boys! Don't doooo it," the principal pleads. "I have enough problems without you fighting. Can we just be friends!?! Hmmm?"  
  
Dib and Zim step back from the crying man. Glancing down at this disturbed soul curling into a ball, they slowly walk away to Miss Bitter's class. Meanwhile, the principal's secretary comes along to give him his daily medication before the first bell rings and the scene fades.  
  
Later that night, the convention center caretaker is setting up the arcade games in their designated areas. After plugging them in, he steps over to a nearby table for a drink. Lower down from the ceiling, Zim smacks the guy over the head with GIR. Pounding him several times, he finds that the man is knocked unconscious. Dropping GIR to the floor, Zim heads behind a arcade game. One of his spider legs hands him a microchip, and another pulls out a installation devise. Immediately, he goes to work. Holding the chip at a point on the arcade game, Zim flashes the devise. The software has been zapped into place. He moves over to another one.  
  
All the while, Dib looks on from underneath the blue table clothed table. He feels well hidden with a great view point from here till GIR takes a peek. Spooked, Dib jumps back from his seated position out into plain sight. Zim recognizes him.  
  
"GIR! Defensive mode, now," Zim orders.  
  
GIR stands straight up and salutes with red glowing eyes. Then, does a back somersault to a tampered with arcade game, and begins to play. A few seconds of game play causes GIR to black out and fall to the floor. Zim stares with a squinted eye .  
  
"The chips' effect isn't as planned. They need .. work," Zim speculates. "There must've been a malfunction made when GIR changed the read-out screen to a cable broadcast frequency earlier in the lab. Damn, stupid robot! Now, I have ta go back and make changes! Freaking SIR unit!"  
  
"Hey, Zim. You forgetting about me," Dib says as Zim's off guard.  
  
Dib jumps Zim, squashing him against GIR's tampered arcade game. Sparks fly from it's housing as the two brawl to the floor. They roll around, trading blows. They hit into the arcade game several times as they continue to roll. As they do, more sparks generate from the machine. This goes unnoticed as the two struggle back to their feet. Zim throws a combination of skilled punches and kicks, pushing Dib against the damaged system. Dib receives punishment from both, Zim's calculated blows and the arcade's electrical shocks.  
  
At this time, GIR wakes up and rubs his eyes. Mistaking the two for hugging one another, he joins in. Squeezing the two together, GIR causes them all to lean against the game machine.  
  
Reaching a critical mass, the arcade game lets off bolts of electricity. One catches Zim, GIR and Dib, sending them out of this existence. Smoke blows from the system's housing panels, filling the auditorium full. The caretaker awakes on the floor coughing and gasping just in time for the sprinklers to go off. He runs out of the room.  
  
"Damn vandalists," he assumes. 


End file.
